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Let me start by stating this fact: I have zero skill when it comes to expressing my feelings. I write about technical things (and trust me, I get real passionate about them), but I feel like a dummy when I try to demonstrate my emotions with words. Bear with me as I try.
With that disclaimer, let’s get started.
I grew up the youngest in a family of four. If you ask my siblings or my parents, I was spoiled. I don’t deny it. My life was… cushy. And I think that’s what gave me this impression that my family’s life would be similar. Please note here that I’m not attempting to throw a self-induced pity party or encourage harsh judgement. I’m trying to be open.

As recently as two years ago I imagined our future family as large. I imagined that we would have lots of kids, a full house, and lots of food. I had never even considered the possibility of infertility. I don’t think I even knew that infertility existed*. I assumed that when we made the decision to have children, we could have chil…

Man alive, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. In March, we were given hope that our insurance company might change their minds and give us the opportunity to do IVF. Since then, everyone’s been asking for an update and we’ve been like, Join the club!
During the surprise call from our fertility doctor, we were given some instructions for how we could move forward while we waited to hear back. First, Jk would need to do another sperm test to prove that the first one wasn’t a spoof. He would then need to meet with a urologist, or male fertility doctor, to analyze the results. Our fertility doctor and the urologist would work together to appeal the rejection from our insurance company.

So over the weeks, we spent way too much time in doctor’s offices. I met with a female reproductive doctor for an exam to be sure that if we got approved, my body would be good to go. That visit led to more blood tests (always), but eventually I got the thumbs up.